Owein is prepped and presented to his new owners but his great pride threatens his wellbeing.

Gladiator - Part 11: Fateful Encounters
by Amalaric
Series: Gladiator

The auction was a dizzying affair of shouts, acrid dust, fear, humiliation and, above all, hot anger. Unaware that he had been duped by the auctioneer into a violent reaction calculated to cast the muscular barbarian in a fighting stance and, thus, attract bids from rich families anxious to invest in gladiatorial meat, Owein still rankled at the memory of the intimate probing and salacious taunts of the effeminate auctioneer who, barely able to conceal his glee, pocketed the twenty percent commission, certain at last that he would own the Levantine boy he lusted after.

Owein was taken from the raised wooden dais, hoots and catcalls still ringing in his ears, and escorted to a chamber deep in the shadowed interior of the sprawling market. Still naked, his strong arms were bound behind his broad back and an obsequious body slave rubbed fresh aromatic oil into the tanned ridges of flexed muscle raising a bright sheen on the young barbarian's handsome body. Careful attention was paid to his penis and testicles, as dewy drops of expensive and sweet smelling oil clung to the thatch of burnished bronze hair at his groin, slicking the thick shaft of his cock, and strangely warming his pendulous balls causing them to droop even heavier than normal in their loose sack. The proud young warrior submitted to the sensuous ministrations because he had to, putting up with the slow caresses of the body slave's oil-slick hands with a grimace creasing his otherwise handsome face. He winced as splayed fingers wedged purposely between the crack of his clenched ass, oiling the deep recess...then up and around muscular thighs flecked with fine gold hair until, at last, the cloying task seemed to be finished. Though he was unaware, the expensive treatment wasn't without purpose- Owein had been purchased at an enormous price and was now being prepped for presentation to his new masters.

The pair of arrogant Romans were obviously father and son, though the elder was wizened with snowy hair and a deceptive air of frailty. The younger, though clearly the elder's son, appeared to be just past his prime, perhaps in his mid- or late thirties, still vigorous, though beginning to run to fat. He affected the clothing of the working class but nevertheless sported a heavy gold armband embellished with a priceless Indian ruby. Owein raised sky blue eyes and risked a fast appraisal; something in the young master's face seemed jaded and spoke of unspeakable cruelty. 'My lord Senator Varus...Master Sextus,' an overseer nodded from father to son, 'may I present you with your purchase; a young barbarian warrior in his prime, worthy (with a bit of training) for any arena as you have seen, and,' he paused, hoisting Owein's ripe balls in the palm of his hand, 'it is said that this one comes of exotic royal stock...somewhere in far Britannia.'

Owein had had more than enough. Twisting away, he spit on the floor inches from the Senator's red leather shoe. The shocked overseer paled with a mixed scandal and terror, beginning to mutter profuse apologies but was cut off. 'Leave it!!' The Senator's voice was deceptively calm, 'You said he possessed spirit...and now we have seen.' A strangely bitter silence descended on the shaded chamber until, clearing his rhuemy throat, the old Senator continued, 'Insubordination, however, must never be tolerated and so,' his tongue darted from a mouth gone suddenly dry with excitement, 'this one should be flogged...thoroughly...severely...so we may, ah, begin our association in a proper way.' Turning to his son, the old man winked, 'Sextus...would you do the honors?'


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